


A Community Service

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has its price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Community Service

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Compadres #18 and later in Watch Your Six #2 with Mary Fallon Zane.

          The members of the highly trained special ops team sat scattered around the basement of the Silver Star Hotel, their headquarters.  Each was deeply engaged in one of the endless tasks that kept them razor sharp and ready to act on a moment's notice, rescuing innocent hostages, stopping a bloody war, or meeting the pizza delivery boy.

          Their leader, Matthew Quintin Shepherd, was in his office, hunched over his desk.  The intimidating piles of never-ending paperwork were nowhere in sight.  He had conquered them over a week ago, and that was downright unnatural as far as the ex-Delta Force Major was concerned.  He cast a furtive glance to the door and beyond.  He didn't want any of the team to catch him.  It had been ages since he'd been actually been able to indulge in this particular guilty pleasure.

          He watched Margo pass by on her way to the kitchen.  _Probably getting some coffee_ , he told himself.  But he decided to wait and see if she stopped by on her way back to the couch.  They were all still checking in on him rather regularly.  Not that he really minded, it was nice to know they cared, but it did wear a little thin after a few weeks.  He'd been out of the hospital for almost a month now!

          Almost a month since he'd helped to bring down the father and daughter team who had almost killed him.  Almost a month of nothing but working out, physical therapy appointments, paperwork, and an endless series of checks and rechecks on their equipment…

          Margo passed by again, a coffee cup in her hand.  She flashed him a smile.  He responded with a brief, distracted grin, then looked back down to what his arms covered on his desktop, hoping he looked busy.  She kept going and he sighed with relief.  He was safe again… for a while.

          He glanced back out at the basement, feeling a little guilty.  Well, it wasn't exactly his fault, after all.  He'd been in the hospital for months!  He had to do _something_ to pass the time, didn't he?  Was it his fault if an old addiction had reared its ugly head?  It wasn't like it was dangerous or anything.  Well, unless he got caught.

          He moved his arms, glancing down at the desktop.  So, how _were_ G.I. Joe and his men going to get out of this one?  He silently turned the page of the comic and kept reading…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sitting down, Margo reached for the book she'd been reading.  With that balanced in her lap, she leaned over and picked up the CD player and headphones.  She slipped the player down next to her, and the headphones over her ears, then she pressed play with a sigh.  The annoying male voice filled her head again.

          She still needed to work on her Portuguese, and since she didn't have anything better to do, she was stuck.  Softly she repeated back the endless list of phrases, rolling her eyes over "Would you like to go out for dinner and dancing?"

          _Why doesn't someone ask me that for real?_ she wondered, but she already knew the answer.  Doug, her most recent dinner companion, had taken a walk after she'd pulled a gun and stopped the two teens who had tried to hold up the restaurant they were dining at.  And Kevin had gotten upset when she'd had to leave his bed for a team meeting.  _You'd think a cop would understand_ , she groused silently.

          And the list went on.  She was right:  men did shy away too easily.

          She repeated the next set of phrases, not really paying attention.  Maybe she needed to get out more, meet more people.  She leaned over and slid the book onto the coffee table, then picked up her laptop computer.  She glanced around at the three men scattered around the basement.  They all looked busy enough.

          She opened the computer, the monitor blinking back to life.  She sighed longingly at the image there – palm trees, white beach, blue ocean… a trip might be just what she needed.  Or better yet, a cruise.

She smiled.  _A singles cruise.  To the Bahamas_.

          Her fingers tapped quietly across the keys, and a moment later she was comparing prices.  Oh, definitely doable.  She glanced up again, her gaze wandering from one man to the next to the next.  It wasn't that she didn't enjoy their company, and Matt's, but another month with just them?  With nothing to do?  Well, nothing but train, and train, and train some more?  She _needed_ a vacation.  She _deserved_ a vacation.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chance tried to keep his attention from wandering, but he just couldn't do it.  And he knew why.  He'd been spending too much time meditating.  Too much time while the Major had been in the hospital, and too much time since he'd gotten out and they'd taken down the Herreras.

What he needed was some real action, not the endless exercises that Matt insisted on, which were fine, but after a month they got to be pretty dull.  And not the training scenarios that they ran with the local SWAT guys, which were also useful, but they got to be too predictable.

What he needed was _real_ action, the get-down, get-dirty, kick ass and take names kind of action.

          It was that or he needed to spend more time in the German, maybe doing some mock strafing runs in the canyon.  Or he could try shooting the canyon in an inverted position…

A slight grin curled the corners of his mouth.  Or maybe the Kumazi triplets were finally back in town.  Keeping his eyes shut, he smiled, remembering the last time he'd invited _them_ out to the hanger…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Benny Ray sat behind the far computer monitor.  Every few seconds he glanced up, checking on what the others were doing.  Margo was still working on some foreign language.  And she must not be very happy about her progress, given the wistful expression on her face.  Oh well, he knew she'd master it eventually; she was one bright lady.

          He shifted his attention to Chance.  The black man was meditating – again.

The sniper shook his head.  Hell, if he enjoyed it as much as Chance obviously did, maybe he'd try it himself.  Guess he'd just have to leave enlightenment for some other lifetime.

C.J. was next.  The man was doing _something_ in the far corner, but the sniper couldn't see what.  Whatever it was, he probably shouldn't be doing it, not if his nervous glances around the room were any indication.  _Well, at least he isn't payin' too much attention to me_ , Benny Ray thought.

He looked back at the computer monitor and swore softly under his breath.  He was a moment or two from getting killed – _again_.  He shook his head.  How the hell had he let that happen?  How the hell had she slipped that move in?

He groaned silently when he saw her message pop up in the screen:  "Got you, Daddy!"

          This was the _last_ time he played checkers online with his daughter.  He was much better when he played in person.  Well, some better.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          C.J.'s fingers moved swiftly while his gaze darted around the basement.  No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, at least not at the moment, although it felt like both Margo and Benny Ray were trying to see what he was doing.  And he would very much like not to be caught.  It would be too humiliating to even contemplate.

          There were just some things that a man should _never_ be caught doing, and this was one of them.  He could just imagine the reactions.  Benny Ray would be disgusted.  Chance would shake his head and walk away.  And Margo would probably laugh at him.  That would hurt.

          He could _not_ get caught.  He looked at the others again.  So far, so good.

          He was close, so close.  Only a few more and he'd be there… and it would be good.  He was sure of that.

          He glanced down.  It was perfect.  He just hoped no one ever found out he'd knitted it himself for Matt's birthday.  The colors were perfect, rich earth-tones, and he'd taken a trip into Shepherd's bedroom to verify the size.

          It had started out as a way to pass the time while Matt was in the hospital, but now he was determined to actually finish it.  That would be a first.  Besides, he could always say he found the sweater on sale someplace…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          A knock at the outside door caused five heads to jerk up, all decorated with guilty expressions.  In Matt's office they heard one of the desk drawers slam.

Margo snapped her laptop closed.  Benny Ray turned his computer off.  C.J. shoved something into the gym bag sitting next to his chair.  And Chance sprang to his feet and immediately headed for the kitchen, his walk a little stiff.

"Are we expecting someone?" Margo asked, her tone skillfully neutral.

Benny Ray and C.J. both shrugged and shook their heads.

Matt stepped into the room, clearing his throat and saying, "Well, it isn't Trout.  He never knocks."  He walked to the stairs and headed up.  Benny Ray and Margo moved to the bottom of the steps, just in case.

Shepherd opened the door, then said, "Father, good to see you.  Is something wrong?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," was the reply.

"Come in," Shepherd said, stepping aside so the man could enter.

"Father Bob," Benny Ray greeted him when he reached the bottom of the stairs.  He'd met the priest while Matt had been in the hospital, and had done some volunteer work around the man's church since.  A retired Ranger-turned-clergyman, Father Bob understood that they were operators, and he didn't ask the kinds of questions that they'd have to lie about.

"Benny Ray," the older man greeted, smiling nervously.  "Margo."

"Good to see you," she greeted him.  "Did I hear you say there's something wrong?"

The priest nodded as Chance and C.J. joined them at the foot of the stairs.  He shifted from foot to foot, looking almost embarrassed.  Then he lifted his chin, glancing at each of them as he said, "I really hate to bother you, and if you're busy, just say so, but—"

"We're not busy," Margo said quickly, then smiled.

The others echoed their agreement.

"Well," Father Bob said, nodding, "that's great."  _Translation_ , he thought, _they're bored_.  "Look, I'm really sorry to ask you, but, well, we're having this fund-raiser today at the church and—"

"You need some help, Padre?" Benny Ray asked.

The priest nodded.  "Yes.  A couple of my parishioners who were supposed to help called to cancel.  I'm a little… short-handed.  I could definitely use a few more… bodies."

Matt smiled.  "Well, Father, I'm sure we can lend you a hand."

"I really do appreciate it," he said, smiling widely.  Then he looked to Margo and added, "Uh, could I speak to you for a moment?  Alone?"

Her eyebrows arched, but she nodded.  "Of course."

"Maybe while we walk down to the church?" he asked.

"Sure, that's fine."

Father Bob looked at the four men.  "Uh, why don't you boys change into shorts and T-shirts and meet us down at the church in, say, fifteen minutes?"

Matt nodded.  "We'll be there, Father."

The men watched Margo and the priest leave.

"Sounds like he's doing some repair work outside," C.J. said.

The other three nodded.

"Well, let's go change.  Meet me back here in ten," Matt instructed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Fifteen minutes later Matt, Benny Ray, Chance and C.J. arrived at the large church.  They glanced around.  There were several rows of folding chairs set up, all facing the beach.  Not far out on the sand a raised platform had been set up.  There were several men standing near one end of the stage.

          The foursome headed over to join them.

          Father Bob walked up a moment later.  "Gentlemen, again, I can't thank you enough for helping us."  He handed each man a piece of paper with a number printed on it.  "If you can just pin those on the front of your shirts, we'll get started."

          Chance glanced down at the paper in his hands.  "What's this for?" he asked.

          Father Bob checked his watch.  "No time, just pin it on and have a seat in the front row.  We're already running a little late.  And remember, this will help us help a lot of kids."

          With perplexed expressions the four operators did as they had been instructed, as did the other men, most of whom looked resigned to their fate, whatever that was.

          Matt and the others sat down together at the far end of the first row.  Shepherd craned his neck, trying to spot Margo in the crowd.  A middle-aged woman walked past and smiled at him.  He smiled back, a little uncomfortable with her appraising once over.  He turned back to the others.

          "Anyone see Margo?"

          "Nope," Benny Ray said, moving his feet as another woman walked by, her gaze wandering over the men.

          "Me, either," Chance added.

          C.J. grunted, watching a beautiful, long-legged blonde stroll by, looking at the men in the first row.  He smiled, but she ignored him.  He scowled after her, then realized that Matt had asked a question.  "What?" the Brit asked.

          "Never mind," Chance said, grinning and shaking his head.

          A moment later Father Bob was standing at the podium, positioned near the far end of the stage.  He tapped the mike, making it whine.  "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, then smiled nervously.  "Ladies, why don't you all find a seat?  That's wonderful.  Thank you."  He waited while most of the women found seats, then continued, "I want to thank everyone for coming today.  And I guess we all know who we have to thank for this amazing November weather…"  There was a wave of soft laughter.  "And we're here to take advantage of this beautiful, warm day.  I'm hoping that, with your help, we'll be able to raise enough money to finally complete our computer training facility here at Saint Francis, as well as extend our late-night safe house program for homeless youth.  Without your generosity none of what we do would be possible.  So, please, keep the kids you'll be helping in mind this morning."  He took a deep breath, then continued.  "All right, I'd now like to introduce our MC for this morning's event.  Miss Margo Vincent."

          Margo walked up to the stage and Father Bob reached out, helping her step up and join him at the mike.  He gave her a quick hug, then jumped down and disappeared somewhere behind the audience.

Margo smiled out at the crowd, then perused the first row, carefully avoiding the questioning gazes of her teammates.  "Good morning," she said.  "It looks like we have a… good crop today.  I'm sure you ladies are anxious to get started, so without further ado, let's get this show on the road!"

          A wild cheer went up behind them and the four operators turned to see what was so interesting.  It was then that they realized that the only men present were all sitting in the front row with them.

          Matt turned back to the others.  "What do you think this is?" he asked.

          "Hell if I know, Boss," Benny Ray said, looking nervous.  "But if these ladies stampede, we're gonna get trampled for sure."

          "We could make a break for it," C.J. suggested.

          Chance, noting the predatory expressions on some of the ladies' faces, shook his head.  "You wouldn't get ten feet."

          Margo took the mike and walked out to the center of the stage.  She smiled down at Matt, then motioned for him to join her.  His eyes widened and he glanced back at the crowd, then to Margo again.  He smiled thinly and shook his head.

          Her smiled widened and her eyes danced dangerously.  "Well, look here, we have a shy one!  Ladies, I think he needs some encouragement."

          An enthusiastic cheer went up, accompanied by clapping and a little foot stamping.

"Come on now," she coaxed, her eyes narrowing to let him know he'd better get his ass in gear and move.

Matt stood and walked stiffly to the edge of the stage.  Looking up at her, he hissed, "Margo, what's going on?"

"Get up here," she replied in kind, the mike down at her side so no one would hear.

Matt climbed onto the stage.  He turned to the crowd, suddenly feeling like he was facing a firing squad.  He smiled nervously at the sea of feminine faces.

"So, ladies, I'd like to start the bidding at $300, do I hear $300 for this magnificent specimen of manhood?"  She walked behind Matt, giving him a swat on the butt.

He jumped forward and the crowd laughed.

"The perfect generic jock, wouldn't you say?" she asked the ladies.

Matt's head jerked to the side, his mouth falling open, his eyes wide.

"Three hundred!" some one yelled.

"Three fifty!"

"Four hundred!"

"We have $400," Margo continued, ignoring the indignation in Matt's eyes.  "Do I hear $450?  I have it on very good authority that number…"  She checked his chest for the number.  "…70 is an excellent mechanic.  Just think, ladies, you can have him change your oil, then take you out for an exciting evening of dinner and dancing, or maybe a moonlit drive along the coast in his vintage Corvette!"

"Four fifty," someone called.

"Five hundred!"

"Five fifty!"

"He's also very handy around the house…" Margo added.  "Carpentry, plumbing—"

"Six hundred!"

"Six fifty!"

"Now that's what we want to hear," Margo encouraged, smiling.

"Seven fifty!"

The crowd cheered.

"We have $750.  Do I hear $800?" Margo asked, scanning the crowd.  When no one replied, she continued, "I have $750… going once… going twice… and sold for $750 to the lady in red!"

The crowd cheered again.

Father Bob appeared, motioning for Matt to step down.  He did, his cheeks bright red.  The woman rushed up to join them, and they headed toward the back of the crowd.

"And now… for our next offering…"  Margo pointed to C.J.

The Brit's eyes rounded and he pointed to himself.

Margo nodded.

"Better get up there," Chance said, " _before_ she comes and gets you…"

The Brit pushed to his feet.  Swallowing hard, he walked over and stepped up onto the stage.  He shot Margo an I'll-get-even look, then turned and flashed a cocky smile at the crowd.

A few scattered cheers was the response.

"All right, ladies," Margo announced, "we have an import here.  That's right, number 103 is from jolly ol' England."  She shoved the mike in front of C.J.'s face.  "Say hello, 103."

"Hello, uh, ladies," C.J. replied, the women in the audience cheering more enthusiastically when they heard his accent.

"So, let's start the bidding again at $300.  Do I hear more?"

"Three hundred," someone near the back called out.

"We have $300," Margo echoed.  "103 might be short, but I hear he's good with computers," she added.  "Any gamers out there?"

C.J. shot her a glance, clearly offended.

"Three ten," a timid voice called out, just loud enough to be heard.

"$310," Margo repeated.  "Do I hear $350?  Oh, I should also tell you, 103 also makes an _amazing_ pineapple upside down cake!"

"Three fifty!"

"Three seventy-five," the timid voice returned.

"Good on the keyboard, good in the kitchen," Margo reminded.

"Four hundred," the woman in the back called.

"Now that's more like it!" Margo said.  "Remember, it's for a good cause!"

"Four ten," the timid voice called out, sounding a little nervous.

"I have $410," Margo said.  "Oh, and did I tell you, 103 is a… drummer!"

"Four fifty!" the voice in back barked.

"Four sixty," the timid voice squeaked desperately.

"$460," Margo echoed, hoping no one would bid against the tiny woman in the third row.  "$460 going once… going twice, sold!" she said, rushing to the end.  "103 goes to the lady in the third row!"

"That's it?" C.J. demanded, pouting at her.  "You didn't give anyone else a chance to bid!" he grouched.

"Oh shut up," Margo said.

Father Bob walked up to escort him off the stage.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Her," Margo said, nodding to the young woman who had stood up.

"Her?" the Brit asked, his expression falling.  She looked like a grade school teacher.  He jumped down, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

Margo pointed to Chance, who smiled and quickly hopped up onto the stage, striking a macho but seductive pose.  She grinned.  "All right, ladies, dig down deep, I'm starting the bidding at $400 for 97!"

"Four fifty!" someone immediately called.

C.J. turned, shooting a nasty glare at the black man before he headed off behind Father Bob.

"Five hundred!"

"Let me tell you a little about number 97; not only is he a pilot – can you imagine an evening flight in a vintage WWII airplane?  But—"

"Six hundred!"

"$600, that's the way!" Margo said.  "But he's also into the martial arts.  You'd just have to feel safe with 97 around."

"Seven hundred!"

"Or, if you like a man with a more sensitive side, why not ask 97 to show you how he meditates?"

"Eight hundred!"

"Smart, good-looking, and… well built," she added as he struck another pose.

"Eight fifty!"

"Nine fifty!"

The crowd fell silent.  "$950 for this… amazing man's company.  $950, going once… $950 going twice… and… anyone?  Sold for $950 to the lucky lady in the blue top!"

Chance's smile widened when he saw the woman stand up.  She was beautiful.  "Whoo-eee," he said.  " _I'd_ pay for that."

"You don't have to," Margo told him softly.  "She's paying for you."

The pilot wagged his eyebrows at her, then hopped down as Father Bob approached the stage.  "Father, introduce me to that lovely lady."

          Margo pointed to Benny Ray, who had slumped down in his chair and looked for all the world like someone had just pole-axed him.  "And next we have number 313!"

          Benny Ray stood and climbed mechanically onto the stage, his cheeks already rosy.  He took up a stance somewhere between "attention" and "at ease," looking anything but the latter.

          "313 is an interesting offering, ladies," Margo announced, walking around the sniper.  "An unusual combination of pure masculinity and playful little boy—"

          She watched Benny Ray's blush deepen to scarlet as someone called out, "Three fifty!"

          "This is a man who I know would be more than happy to take you for a ride on his _big_ motorcycle, or maybe to a drive-in movie in his _big_ red pick-up truck… do they still have those?"

          "Four hundred!"

          "Or, if you prefer, an evening of country music and a little country swing?"

          "Five hundred!"

          "Five fifty!"

          "Six hundred!"

          "Six fifty!"

          "Do you like a mystery, ladies?  Well then, this man is for you – quiet, gentle, but, and trust me on this, he's always… armed.  You couldn't ask for a better man to take you out for a little walk in the woods."

          "Seven fifty!"

          Margo stepped up to Benny Ray, trying not to laugh at the scandalized expression he was trying hard to hide.  "Say good morning, 313."

          "Good mornin', " he complied in his soft southern drawl.

          "Eight hundred!"

          "Eight fifty, oh please, please, _please!_ " someone cried.

          The audience laughed.

          Margo waited a moment.  "I have $850… do I hear $900?  $850 going once… going twice… sold for $850 to the polite lady in the middle!"

          The crowd cheered.

          Benny Ray, rolled his shoulders and jerked his neck to the side before he looked at Margo.  "I won't forget this," he promised.

          Margo blinked innocently.

          "Benny Ray," Father Bob called.

          The sniper stepped down.  The priest patted him on the back as they walked off.

          Margo picked her next victim.  "Number 14, you're next!  Now, ladies, get a good look at these biceps!"

          "Three hundred!"

          "Why don’t you pull off that tank top, number 14…"

          The sniper winced, but didn't look back.  At least he'd been able to keep all his clothes on.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The next morning Margo sat at the large wooden table in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper.  She looked up as Matt tromped down the stairs, coming to a halt halfway across the floor when he saw her.  His eyes narrowed.

          "Good morning," she greeted him, forcing herself not to smile.

          "That's your opinion," he grumbled, crossing the rest of the basement and heading straight to the coffee maker.  "Do you have any idea how long it takes to retile a whole damned bathroom?"

          Margo's eyes rounded and she forced back a laugh so she wouldn't choke on her coffee.  As soon as she swallowed she asked, "Someone paid $750 to get you to retile their bathroom?"

          Matt grunted an affirmative as he sat down.  He reached around and rubbed his back.  "I think I need to go see Rico, get some therapy on my aching back."

          She giggled.  "It was for a good cause, Matt, admit it."

          Shepherd tried to scowl, but he couldn't quite pull it off.  "Yeah, I know…"  He took a sip of the hot coffee then lifted his head and grinned.  "Besides, she was a great cook; fixed me a wonderful dinner."

          "Just dinner?" Margo asked innocently, hoping her real curiosity didn't show.

          Matt almost lied, but he nodded.  "Yes, just dinner.  A very _late_ dinner.  Anyone else here yet?"

          "Not yet."

          They both heard the door open.  Two sets of footfalls echoed down the stairs.  A moment later Chance and Benny Ray were attacking the coffee maker.

          "Morning," Margo said.

          Chance glanced over his shoulder and smiled.  "Good morning."

          Margo's expression shifted to one of surprise.  "Hmm, now, how should I interpret that?"

          "He didn't get lucky," Benny Ray told her, grinning at the black man.

          Chance chuckled.  "Not yet anyway.  She wants to get to know me first."

          "Oh, I see," Margo replied, trying not to laugh.

          "I take it you had a good day with your… buyer?" Matt asked, sounding a little annoyed.

          Chance carried his cup over and sat down next to Margo.  "Yeah," he said.  "Ms. Christine Fromm.  She's a successful family law lawyer.  We had a nice day.  I took her for a ride in the German, then we had dinner and went to a lecture by Tabassi Endo, an African spiritual philosopher—"

          "And I take it she wants to see you again?" Margo interrupted.

          Chance grinned.  "Was there any doubt?  Tomorrow night," he replied, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

          Margo shook her head, then shifted her attention to Benny Ray.  "How about you, what did your lady pay $850 for?"

          Matt looked up.  "Eight fifty?"

          Benny Ray nodded, his cheeks and ears already going red.

          "Eight fifty?" Shepherd repeated.  "That's a hundred more than—"  He stopped and huffed.

          Benny Ray looked up from his coffee, meeting his friend and commander's gaze.  He shrugged.  "It's the accent."

          Matt looked from Benny Ray to Margo, who nodded.  "I think that was the deciding factor."

          "And what did you go for?" Shepherd asked Chance.

          The black man grinned.  "Nine fifty."

          Matt looked hurt.

          "Sorry," Margo said, her expression a little sheepish.  "I guess I wasn't warmed up yet."

          Any further comments were halted when the door opened again and C.J. skipped down the steps, whistling softly.  He stopped when he found the team all sitting at the table, staring at him.  "What?"

          "Nothing," Margo said, waiting for the man to get his own coffee and sit down.

          "This a team meeting?" the Brit asked.

          "No," Margo said, shaking her head.  "So, how was your, uh, bidder?"

          C.J. grinned.  "Ah, she's a sweet—"  He stopped.  They were all staring at him again.  "What?"

          "Did ya get lucky or not?" Benny Ray demanded.

          The grin on the demolition expert's face said it all.

          "Damn," Chance sighed.  "How'd that happen?"

          "She was… amazing," C.J. said.  "Reminded me of the time I met this belly dancer—"

          "I _don't_ want to hear this," Margo interrupted.  She looked back to Benny Ray.  "You never said what happened to you," she reminded him.

          "Well," Benny Ray said, "we went for a late breakfast, then we went over to her place."

          "And?" Chance asked, taking a moment to give C.J. a quick recap of his date.

          "I can't believe I topped Don Juan," C.J. laughed.  "Maybe next time, mate."

          "She's worth waiting for," Chance replied.

          "Benny Ray?" Margo said.

          "Well, we listened to country music and I taught her how t' line dance… until her kids got home."

          "Her kids?" Margo asked, her eyes rounding in surprise.

          "Yep," Benny Ray said, then took a swallow of coffee.

          "What'd you do next?" Chance prompted.

          "Went t' a game."

          "A game?" Matt asked.  "You went to the Laker's game?"

          "Nope," Benny Ray said.  "Went to her son's baseball game, then caught Peter's soccer game.  We even went out for ice cream cones afterwards – us and all five kids.  Her son's in Peter's class.  She said she'd seen me at a couple of parent-teacher days and knew about the divorce."  He grinned.  "We're going to take the kids to Disneyland this weekend."

          Matt shook his head, mumbling to himself.

          C.J. glanced around the table, grinning from ear to ear.  "You mean… I'm the only one?"

          Matt sighed.  Benny Ray and Margo rolled their eyes.  Chance just shook his head, "Give me a day or two, Romeo."

          "But I was the only one last night?"  C.J. chuckled and wagged his eyebrows.

          "I knew that was going to happen," Margo said matter-of-factly.

          C.J. looked at her.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

          Margo turned her best innocent, "what" look on the man.  "I mean, she sounded so… desperate.  How long had it been?"

          C.J. looked a little confused.  He knew he was treading dangerous ground, but he couldn't help himself.  "A while.  She's… shy."

          "School teacher?" Margo asked.

          "Secretary," C.J. countered.

          "Ah."

          "What?" the Brit demanded.

          "Nothing."

          "Margo."

          "She got you for such a bargain…"

          "Bargain?" Matt asked.

          "Four sixty," Chance supplied.

          "Four sixty?" Shepherd echoed, finally grinning.

          C.J. drew himself up.  "She said I was irresistible – at _any_ price," he defended himself.

          The operators all laughed.

          "Well, C.J.," Benny Ray said a moment later.  "Since you're the only one who got lucky, you're buyin' breakfast."

          "Oh, it would be my distinct pleasure," C.J. replied.  "I might be cheap, but I'm not easy…  But she was impossible to refuse.  Have you ever seen a woman in a—"

          "C.J.!" they chorused.

          "What?"

The End


End file.
